


Built-in Remedy

by jessikast



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (But only for a couple of hours it's not a kidfic really), Baby, Cuddling, First Time, Hand Jobs, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Sex, Soft Ending, They both have penises, Well male-appearing angel lactation anyway, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 08:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20337274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessikast/pseuds/jessikast
Summary: Crowley smirked. “Aziraphale,” he said seriously, “I do believe you’re saying that after six-thousand years with humans, there’s one thing you haven’t tried. That does seem like a shame. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help?”After finding an abandoned baby, Crowley naturally miracles up the easiest way to feed him. When Aziraphale later expresses a little curiosity about how that might taste, Crowley can't resist the temptation of offering a little more to him and seeing how far he can get the angel to go.





	Built-in Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> First off: I DON'T EVEN KNOW. Lactation kink isn't my _thing_, it's not something I've given more than a passing thought to ever before, and yet this idea popped into my head and HERE WE ARE. All my other Good Omens fics have been on the fluffy side, so this is definitely the porniest thing I've written in ages.
> 
> Thanks ever so much to Purrplekat1989 and dotty23 for their beta reads - any remaning errors, extraneous commas (I do love my commas), or "angle" when I meant "angel" are my own.

Crowley was two blocks away from the bookshop, for once choosing to saunter there rather than drive, when he heard the thin cry coming out of an alleyway. He paused, listening intently, before to investigate. Maybe it was a kitten? Animals didn’t like Crowley, but he’d still always had a soft spot for cats. (Appropriately irreverent of authority, and decent appreciation for a nice warm spot to bask in.)

Turning into the narrow lane between two tall brick buildings Crowley was nearly bowled over by a kid running out – he could barely see their face, half-drowned in an oversized grey hoodie, but he thought it was a girl as she gasped out a choked “Sorry…sorry…” and ran on. She had been crying. Crowley had the sombre thought that she wasn’t apologising for bumping into him. A sudden worry gnawed at his stomach and he hurried forward.

Crowley had seen enough of the worst of humanity that he had a bad feeling that he knew what he was going to find.

The baby was, at least, pink and _alive_, warmly swaddled in a soft wool blanket. Several fleecy blankets made a kind of nest around it, where it was tucked on the ground behind a dumpster bin. Crowley exhaled a little in relief – he’d been worried that the wee mite was going to be _in_ the bin – and picked it up, automatically supporting the head and cradling its body close to his. The baby – maybe a week or two old? – paused its crying long enough to peer blearily at Crowley’s face with pale blue eyes, subsiding to whimpers as Crowley automatically rocked and bounced a little. Crowley’s felt something crinkle in the blanket and unfolded it enough to pull out a piece of paper, torn out of a notebook and roughly scrawled handwriting. “His name is Edward. I’m so sorry, I just can’t.”

“Oh, you poor little thing,” Crowley sighed. He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the infant or his mum. Holding the baby firmly with both arms, he hurried to the bookshop.

The bell above the door rang as he entered the bookshop and Aziraphale’s voice floated down from the second floor. “We’re just about to close, I’m afraid!”

“Just me, angel,” Crowley said tightly. “Well, me and a plus one.”

Aziraphale appeared at the railing. “You’ve brought a guest? I don’t…oh. Oh!” He paused, taking in the unlikely sight below him.

Crowley smiled tightly. “Do you have an instruction manual for babies anywhere on the shelves? Been a while since I was responsible for one so little.”

Aziraphale humphed, unamused, and turned to make haste down the stairs. “Wherever did you find it?”

Crowley sighed, and jiggled the baby, who was starting to fuss. “Heard him crying in an alley on my way here. I think his mum left him, but Aziraphale, she was only a kid herself. I suppose we’d better…”

Aziraphale was leaning over the baby, one finger gently stroking its little cheek. Crowley was slightly gratified when the baby – little Edward, he supposed – didn’t immediately fall to the angelic charms, but started fussing a little louder, one arm flailing out of the blankets and managing to thwap Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Oh dear,” said the angel awkwardly, stepping back a little out of flailing range. “Do you suppose anyone’s looking for him?”

Crowley bent to take a sniff of Edward’s scalp, enjoying that soft milky smell that all babies had, and savoured the warm little weight of him. He liked kids. “Must be,” he murmured. “Lovely little man like this. Of course, it would probably take a miracle for them to find him….” He trailed off, and raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Aziraphale said, lifting a hand to snap and gesture. Crowley blinked, feeling the miracle wash through him on its way out to cover London. “I’m sure that the people who would be best suited to love and care for this baby will be, coincidentally, drawn to check in here in their search.”

Edward’s waving fist had found his mouth, and he was starting to suck at it. The gesture tickled a memory at the back of Crowley’s brain. “I think he’s hungry?” he ventured.

Aziraphale stood upright again, turning to look around the shop and patting his pockets as if he expected to find a baby bottle tucked into his waistcoat. “They have formula these days, don’t they? Easier to miracle up than a nanny goat. Give me a moment…”

Crowley rolled his eyes behind his shades, and gestured for a miracle of his own. Aziraphale looked confused, clearing sensing the miracle but not seeing what Crowley had done until Crowley moved to sit on the back room couch and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Easier to cut out the middle-man,” he explained, feeling just a little self-conscious.

Aziraphale looked genuinely flabbergasted, then averted his eyes as the tops of Crowley’s breasts were revealed. Crowley snorted softly. “Come on, angel, it’s perfectly natural. Most natural thing there is, really.”

“You’ve, ah, done this before?” Aziraphale said, still carefully avoiding eye contact.

Crowley nabbed a cushion to support his arm and settled little Edward across his lap. The baby snuffled and wriggled, smelling lunch, and Crowley hissed slightly when he felt a gratifyingly strong latch. It actually hurt for a second, then in the silence he could hear regular little gulps.

“Been a few millenia,” Crowley replied to Aziraphale, but still watching Edward. “For some reason people don’t tend to leave me in charge of their little ones. Not sure if you remember, there was a little flooding incident a while back. I managed to save a few of the kids. Babies.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly. “I never knew-“

“You’d’ve had to thwart me. Wasn’t part of the _Great Plan_, after all.” Crowley said ‘Great Plan’ the way most other people said ‘dog shit’. “It was only as many as I could carry, hardly any. Took off with them across the continent, first village I found in Asia that wasn’t flooded I dropped ‘em off. Had to feed them on the way, though. Since the only nanny goat was on the Ark…” He shrugged. There was silence again, broken only by the little snuffles and gulps. Aziraphale moved slowly to perch on the sofa next to Crowley.

“I suppose it’s a handy skill to have,” Aziraphale rallied. “I’ve never actually spent a lot of time around nursing moth- caregivers. How long will he feed for?” At that moment Edward pulled free, little face scrunched up in annoyance.

“Hungry little man, aren’t you!” murmured Crowley. “Just a mo’.” He lifted the baby and settled him on the other side, letting his shirt fall back over the large, dark nipple that the baby had decided he was done with. “Lucky for us, looks like he’s a quick eater,” he explained to Aziraphale. “Could be five minutes, could be an hour.”

“It’s not, er, bad for a baby to have demon milk, is it?”

Crowley just looked at Aziraphale quellingly, and didn’t bother replying.

Aziraphale blushed and stood, fluttering his hands a little. “I feel like I should be doing more to help. Is there anything…?”

“Glass of water? I’m parched. This stuff doesn’t come out of nowhere, you know. Maybe a snack?”

Aziraphale brightened, pleased to be able to help. “Of course!” He bustled past, putting a scotch tumbler full of water on the wide couch arm next to Crowley, then bringing back a pastry box from the front counter. “I have some danishes from that lovely little patisserie down the street. Would that do?”

Crowley took one, evaluated the risk of getting crumbs on the baby’s head, shrugged, and utilised a little snakeish biology to fit the whole thing in his mouth in one go.

“’Anksh,” he said.

Edward’s suckling was starting to slow, eyelids drooping, and Crowley used one finger to gently break the suction around his nipple. Edward didn’t try to get back to it, just smacking his lips a few times contentedly. “Have a tea towel or something handy?”

Aziraphale handed him a pristine, tartan (of course) tea towel. Crowley slung it over his shoulder, lifted the sleepy baby, and patted his back until he heard the burp. “Want the towel back?” he asked Aziraphale, feeling a little meanly amused at the expression of disgust on the angel’s face as he looked at the spit-up on the previously clean towel.

“….you can keep it,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley snorted, and picked up one of the fleece blankets one handed to spread it over the baby’s back. He could feel a little nose tucking itself into the crook of his shoulder, little breaths evening out into sleep, and his heart constricted. His shirt was still mostly open, and he noticed Aziraphale’s eyes glancing and darting away again.

“Can’t do buttons one-handed,” he said. “Give us a hand?”

“Oh! Of course!”

The corner of Crowley’s mouth twitched in amusement as Aziraphale hurried forward to help button his shirt. The angel’s hands brushed the sensitive nipples through the silky fabric, making Crowley jump a little. Aziraphale’s hands flew back, then he gingerly resumed buttoning again, a blush high on his cheeks. Crowley thought this was hilarious.

The baby had been asleep on Crowley’s chest for nearly an hour when there was a quick knock on the front door of the shop. Crowley started to turn towards the door then checked the movement before it could wake Edward. Aziraphale, who had been sitting with an extraordinarily soft expression on his face watching the baby sleep on Crowley, jumped up and hurried to the entrance. Crowley gingerly shifted the baby to the crook of his arm and stood to follow Aziraphale just as he opened the door to admit a frantic-looking teenage boy, followed by a harried-looking middle-aged couple who could only be his parents.

The boy was speaking quickly, holding out a smartphone like evidence. “…sorry to be a bother, I can see you’re closed, but Maps isn’t working, I need to find this alley which is somewhere near here I think, I got a text from my ex saying she’d left….oh.” Crowley had emerged into the store enough for the new arrivals to see him and the bundle he held.

“I think you’ll find it’s all quite all right,” said Aziraphale in that slightly angelic way which made the listener feel that it really _would_ be all right. “I don’t suppose that you were in search of a baby? My friend found this lovely little chap not even two hours ago.”

The woman who must be the grandmother made a sound like a choked off sob and put her hand to her mouth. “It’s a boy?”

The teenager’s eyes fixed on the baby and he walked towards Crowley, reaching out then pausing. His eyes flicked to Crowley’s face. “Is it okay…am I allowed?”

“Of course,” Crowley said softly, gently placing the baby in the boy’s arms. Edward stirred, eyes opening to fix on his father’s face. One little fist waved toward him. “Hi,” said the boy, soft and a bit shaky.

His mother didn’t allow her clear shock to overwhelm new grandmotherly instincts. She hurried over. “Here, dear, you need to support the head, yes, just like that, other hand under his bottom…”

The teenager looked at Aziraphale and Crowley. His eyes were shiny. “_Thank you_. Thank you for finding him. I swear I didn’t know, we broke up months ago and she never told me…she just sent me this text today and I didn’t know what to do…”

“Not a problem,” Crowley said, a little awkward in the face of such sincere gratitude. The grandfather came to join his family, wrapping son and wife in a hug, looking at the baby with quiet joy. Crowley stepped back, bumping into Aziraphale. He reached out blindly, so glad when the angel’s hand found his and squeezed tightly.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, and seeing the expression on his face cleared his throat slightly and subtly waved the fingers on his other hand. “Don’t you think it might be time to get the wee one home safe and sound? It just so happens that I have a baby capsule here, please do take it for your car.” He let go of Crowley’s hand and started ushering the family out the door.

Crowley watched them all for a moment then quickly turned to pick up the blankets and paper left with the baby. “These were all with him,” he said, handing the bundle to the grandfather. “It’s his name, I think. Edward.”

The teen smiled at the baby and stroked his cheek. “Edward. Eddie. Yeah, I like that.”

His mother smiled shakily, thanked Crowley and Aziraphale, and put her arm around her son to lead him out. As they left, Crowley heard her talking again. “Oh, that poor girl. I have to admit I didn’t much like her for you, but she must have had such a hard time of it. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone, she’s hardly got anyone looking out for her in that horrible home. We’ll get you settled and I’ll pop out to check on her…”

Aziraphale closed the door behind the family, and turned the lock with a sigh of relief. “Couldn’t have ended better, I suppose. It’s a good family, that one. Little Eddie is going to grow up surrounded by love.”

“Lucky for him,” Crowley said tightly. He folded his arms over his chest, feeling bereft, then feeling ridiculous about it. They’d only looked after the baby for a couple of hours, it was all a foregone conclusion anyway. He saw Aziraphale looking at him consideringly.

“Come on, my dear,” the angel said after a beat. “I think we need a little sit down after all that excitement. Perhaps a little nip of something?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” Crowley said, letting himself be ushered back into the back room, sitting heavily on the sofa. He tilted his head back on the sofa, looking at the panelled wooden ceiling, then reached up to pull off his glasses and rub the bridge of his nose.

He looked up when he heard the slosh as Aziraphale tilted a tumbler of whisky back and forth under his nose. “Cheers.” He took the glass and looked at his chest for a moment. “’Spose I’d better…” He lifted his hand to snap the miracle.

“Um,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, never mind,” said the angel, looking fixedly at nothing in particular past Crowley’s shoulder. “It’s silly.”

Crowley felt his mood lift a little, and he sat up straighter. “Something you wanted, angel?”

“It’s just…” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked down to Crowley’s chest, the buttons pulled open and neckline skewed just enough for the swell of the top of one breast to be visible. He looked away again, licking his lips nervously.

“Yessss?”

“I was wondering, have _you_ ever…tried it?”

Crowley felt himself starting to grin. He wasn’t sure exactly how yet, but he just _knew_ this was going to be one of his favourite opportunities with the angel, that combination of an excuse to mock him, just a little, while deep down he was filled with gleeful admiration at Aziraphale’s audaciousness.

“I’m sorry, are you asking if I’ve ever tried _breastmilk_?”

“Oh, see I told you it was silly!”

“No, no, no,” Crowley said, leaning forward. “Not at all. Like I said before, it’s perfectly natural. Why, have _you_?”

“Of course not!” said Aziraphale. He was definitely blushing now, trying to look at anything _but_ Crowley, and failing completely to not keep his glances away from Crowley’s chest. “Really, I shouldn’t have said anything. Let’s just-“

Crowley smirked. “Aziraphale,” he said seriously, “I do believe you’re saying that after six-thousand years with humans, there’s _one_ thing you haven’t tried. That _does_ seem like a shame. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help?”

Aziraphale finally looked Crowley in the face, expression surprised. “Really?”

Crowley relaxed back in the sofa, sprawling just a little. “Of course!” He put the whiskey down on the side table and undid another button or two on his shirt, then pulled it to the side so one nipple was exposed. “Here, give me your hand.” Aziraphale sat on the far side of the sofa and reached forward gingerly. Crowley grabbed his hand, pulling him forward with a small surprised huff, then folded Aziraphale’s fingers so just his index finger was extended. “There,” he said, satisfied, and a little gleeful for more reasons than he could really articulate. “Hold it just under…right.” With one hand he held Aziraphale’s wrist, with the other he reached up to his small breast, pulled back on either side of the wide nipple then pushed forward. A large creamy bead of milk formed on the end then fell onto the angel’s waiting finger. Crowley released Aziraphale’s wrist. “Well, go on then,” he said. “Try it!”

Aziraphale’s eyes flicked to his, then back to his hand. Crowley watched avidly as Aziraphale carefully lifted his finger to his lips, tongue darting out to lick the drop off his finger. The angel’s eyes widened in surprise, but it was a pleased expression.

“Oh!” Aziraphale said, licking his lips a little. “That’s…it’s not quite what I expected. It’s so…”

“Sweet?”

“Exactly! Rather sweet. And just a hint of saltiness, maybe?” Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at Crowley’s chest, mortification entirely gone, with a thoughtful expression on his face which Crowley recognised from many shared dining experiences. It meant ‘Hmm, that was interesting, perhaps I’ll order another?’

“Would you like some more?” asked Crowley smoothly, every ounce of temptation he could muster in his voice.

“If you wouldn’t mind…” Aziraphale trailed off, already reaching forward.

Crowley repeated his earlier action, expressing a bead of milk onto Aziraphale’s finger. This time he felt the slight heavy almost-tingle that heralded a let-down of milk, and as Aziraphale drew his finger back an accidental slip of Crowley’s fingers against the side of his breast sent a thin stream of milk jetting across to hit Aziraphale’s wrist. Crowley watched again, rapt, as Aziraphale quickly stuck his finger in his mouth, then lifted his arm to lick the liquid running down his wrist. The angel’s eyelids fluttered closed, for just a second. Crowley felt his heartbeat quicken and absentmindedly his tongue flickered out to lick his own lips.

Aziraphale’s expression was definitely covetous now, looking at Crowley’s chest again. “Perhaps one more little taste?” he asked. “If you wouldn’t mind indulging me? Oh, it’s a bit naughty I suppose. It’s just such a unique flavour…”

Crowley’s breasts were both tingling with that let-down feeling now. There was just something so tempting about the idea of _feeding_ Aziraphale, offering him sustenance in such an intimate way, being the reason Aziraphale indulged in a little gluttony. He felt the silky fabric of his shirt catch for a moment on his ridiculously sensitive nipples as it grew damp with leaking milk. With a slight hiss he quickly unbuttoned the rest of the buttons, shrugging it back off his shoulders.

Breath quickening, Crowley sat back on the sofa and gave Aziraphale a challenging look. “There’s plenty here, angel. Why don’t you just…enjoy it from the source, as it were?”

Aziraphale’s eyes met Crowley’s, startled. “You mean I should…drink straight from your…“

“That’s right, from my breasts.” Crowley could see Aziraphale wavering, actually leaning forward a little but frowning at the same time, not quite able to bring himself to take that step. Crowley didn’t quite know what he was doing, why he was offering…but he couldn’t help himself, the situation was so _delicious_, the chance to run at Aziraphale with this intimacy and see how far he could push it.

Crowley let his voice drop a little, forcing Aziraphale to lean a little closer to hear him. “I _want_ you to, angel. Look, I’m practically dripping. The idea of you…” Crowley leaned closer, taking a deep breath. Aziraphale’s eyes caught on the movement of his chest. The demon put his mouth close to Aziraphale’s ear and let his tongue grow long enough for a moment to flick Aziraphale’s earlobe. “I want you to put your _mouth_ on my _tits-_“

He didn’t get any further because Aziraphale made a choked sound and abruptly slid to his knees in front of the sofa, settling in between Crowley’s sprawled legs. One hand on Crowley’s bare waist, the other reached towards Crowley’s nipple and hovered there for a moment. “How should I-“ breathed Aziraphale, not tearing his eyes off Crowley’s breast.

Crowley drew in a shaking breath. “Just…just lean forward, put your mouth…”

Aziraphale did just that, hesitating so Crowley could feel his breath skate over his nipple, then he moved just enough so the tip of the nipple was just inside his pursed lips. The angel’s eyes lifted to meet Crowley as he took an experimental suck, eyebrows raised in query. _Like this?_

Crowley lifted a hand, letting himself drag it through Aziraphale’s curls, then gripping to pull him forward a little. “No, that’s too…you’ll just hurt me that way. You need to _open up_-“ Crowley’s other hand stroked the corner of Aziraphale’s jaw, encouraging him to open wider. “C’mon, you need to get more in there. A proper _mouthful_, I know you know how to do that…”

Aziraphale’s expression went mulish for a moment, even as he did open wider and drew more of the breast into his mouth, lips forming a seal over almost the entire dark nipple, tongue resting firmly against the underside of the breast. This time when he sucked Crowley could feel the difference immediately. The tentative but strong tug, the feeling of Aziraphale swallowing around him as he had nearly a mouthful of milk, even the slight tingle in his other breast, which leaked a droplet or two in sympathy.

Aziraphale’s eyes closed, his hands tightening on Crowley’s waist, and he just _kept going_. Crowley felt his breath come faster and his hand clenched in Aziraphale’s hair as that delicious, relentless pull jerked through him. It felt like Aziraphale was drinking _everything_, and Crowley helplessly tilted his head back against the sofa making breathless and encouraging sounds even as the pulling sensation reached his cock, which started to harden and swell against the unforgiving fly of his tight black jeans.

Aziraphale pulled back and Crowley almost whimpered, feeling briefly bereft. His nipple drew tight and pebbled as the cool air met spit-wet skin, and Crowley tensed only to relax in relief as he realised that Aziraphale was merely moving to the other side. The other breast had been steadily leaking, and the angel first licked the trail of milk, tongue darting and nearly tickling the firm curve of Crowley’s small tit, before he leaned in to take the nipple fully in his mouth. This time he leaned in closer to Crowley, one arm around his waist, the other reaching up to his shoulder to hold him steady, chest pressed against Crowley’s crotch.

Crowley gasped helplessly at the feeling, one hand alternatively petting and clutching Aziraphale’s hair, the other holding onto his shoulder. He felt the muscles in his pelvis clench, hips twitching a little at the pressure against his cock. It was almost _painful_, in the same intense way Aziraphale’s insistent suckling was almost painful, arousal trapped behind his fly and resisting the need to buck up against that lovely warm weight even as he knew Aziraphale couldn’t _possibly_ miss Crowley’s reaction. He arched his back, holding Aziraphale’s head against him, whole body feeling tense from his gasping mouth to curling toes.

Finally, after what felt like an age but must have been only minutes, Aziraphale pulled back again. Crowley tipped his head forward to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. He knew what he must look like, expression a little wild, pupils blown wide to cover his eyes in gold, panting and turned on. He didn’t know what to say.

Aziraphale didn’t speak either. He looked at Crowley, both of their breathing loud in the quiet room. Gratifyingly, Crowley heard Aziraphale’s breath hitch a little as the angel shifted on his heels, one hand making an aborted movement to his own crotch, pants tented.

Aziraphale licked his lips. Crowley followed the movement. Their eyes met again.

Aziraphale lunged forward at the same moment Crowley reached out to grab the angel’s lapels with both hands, dragging him up to straddle his lap. Their mouths met, frantic and messy, teeth clashing a little, both trying to taste the other. Crowley could taste the milk, taste _himself_, in Aziraphale’s mouth, the sweet, creamy milk fat coating Aziraphale’s tongue and teeth. Crowley yanked at Aziraphale’s bow tie and fumbled with waistcoat buttons even as the angel braced himself with one hand on the back of the sofa and tried to shrug his jacket off one-handed. After a moment Aziraphale snorted in exasperation and Crowley could feel himself grinning against Aziraphale’s mouth.

Aziraphale pulled back enough to settle his arse on Crowley’s lap and pull his jacket off properly, followed by his waistcoat. Crowley smirked, enjoying the view. Aziraphale caught his expression and smiled fondly at him as he tilted his chin up to properly undo his tie and start on the top buttons of his shirt. “What?”

Crowley lifted his hands in a rueful shrug, and let them drop back down onto Aziraphale’s thighs. His fingers walked themselves up to the waistband of Aziraphale’s trousers, starting to tug the shirt out from where it was tucked in. “It’s just…whenever I thought about us doing something like this it was less-“ He lifted a finger to gesture between the two of them. “Less _this_ and more…soft lighting, sweet and gentle kisses. Holding hands. That kind of thing.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, most of his shirt unbuttoned. Crowley helped with the last couple of buttons and slid long fingers up under Aziraphale’s undershirt, pushing it up a little. “I think we’ve established that you’re plenty _sweet_.” He leaned forward to press a kiss under Crowley’s jaw, one hand stroking up his side to rest against the soft curve of breast, squeezing gently. “And while I’m sure-“ _kiss_ “-that I would also enjoy _gentle_ kisses-“ He punctuated this by _nipping_ at the meat of Crowley’s shoulder where it met his neck. “-I’m afraid that when you are simply _so_ perfectly tempting, you’ll just have to reap what you sow.” He licked broadly up the side of Crowley’s neck, finishing by taking an earlobe in his mouth.

Crowley shivered and grinned, snakeishly. “Lucky me, then.” He pushed Aziraphale’s shirt off, and his undershirt, then wrapped an arm around the back of Aziraphale’s neck and hauled him in close to kiss him again, other hand greedily wandering over the exposed skin, the smooth curve of the angel’s back, gently squeezing the deliciously soft roll of belly above his pants, scraping his nails (which, like his eyes out of his control, had grown a little longer, darker and sharper) gently over the shoulder blades where wings would sit.

Aziraphale hummed a satisfied noise against him, even as his hands came down to pull at the button fly of Crowley’s jeans. Crowley jerked a little as the backs of Aziraphale’s fingers brushed against his cock through his black brand-name boxer briefs, then groaned as the fly was pulled back and his erection had room. He fumbled to return the favour, both hands a little clumsy on the weird angle of the buttons and fasteners on Aziraphale’s stupid antique trousers. Aziraphale reached down to do it himself, pulling one of Crowley’s hands away, twining their fingers together then using his weight and leverage from his position above Crowley to hold his hand against the back of the sofa. The other deftly undid his pants, and Crowley eagerly slid his free hand in, pushing down the band of the tartan (_of-fucking-course_) boxers to pull Aziraphale’s cock free.

Aziraphale did the same to Crowley, and Crowley hissed in relief, eyes closing for a second as Aziraphale’s hand closed firmly and deliciously around his cock. He opened his eyes again to look hungrily down at the vision the two of them made, pants opened and boxers pushed down _just_ enough to let their equally hard cocks out, his own a little longer with tiny, soft black scales scattered around the base in its ginger hair, trailing off up the length of him; Aziraphale’s cock was as luciously _plump_ as the rest of him, flushed pink, white-blonde curls at the base glinting gold in the dim light. Both their torsos were flushed and breathing hard. As Crowley watched, a bead of pre-come leaked from the top of Aziraphale’s cock.

They looked debauched. He _loved_ it.

Crowley reached forward with one long finger and gathered the drop of pre-come, bringing it to his lips. Aziraphale’s breath stuttered, watching him. Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Fair’s fair,” he said, and wrapped his long tongue around the tip of his finger, drawing the droplet into his mouth. _Exquisite_. Salty and bitter and with an undertaste that was pure _Aziraphale._

Aziraphale’s expression turned resolute, and his fingers tightened where they were still holding Crowley’s hand trapped against the back of the couch. With his other he reached down to wrap his hand around both of their cocks together, dragging his hand up, his thumb gently pushing against the skin of Crowley’s foreskin then all the way down again. Crowley felt a little angelic miracle shiver through him – _quite_ an interesting sensation at this close range – and suddenly Aziraphale’s hand was slick where it wrapped around them both. He groaned and bucked helplessly into the angel’s hand and against his cock, watching Aziraphale watching him.

Aziraphale’s mouth was open a little, breathing heavily, and his gaze roamed over Crowley. Their cocks, Crowley’s mouth, Crowley’s chest, Crowley’s small breasts heaving as he panted and tried to thrust up against Aziraphale. Crowley lifted his free hand to play with his own tits, gently squeezing one, reaching over to the other to massage out a droplet of milk, using his long fingers to hold them both together in the middle of his chest, swells pressed together to form a little cleavage. He glanced down and was struck by the contrast of the soft, white skin held by his strong fingers and dark claw-like nails.

Glancing up, Crowley could see that Aziraphale’s attention was caught too. “Come on,” Crowley murmured as Aziraphale’s strokes grew a little faster and harder, nearly, _nearly_ at that edge where they would grow frantic. “I want you to come on me. Is that what you want, angel? Cover my chest, cover my tits with your come? Oh, it would be _awfully_ wicked, so _dirty_-“

And that was as far as he got, because Aziraphale gasped, face contorting a little as he came, watching himself paint Crowley’s chest. That was enough for Crowley, feeling Aziraphale’s come on his chest, over the back of his hand where he was holding his breasts, on one nipple. Crowley whimpered and came too, spurting in Aziraphale’s hand, back arched, mouth open in a keening gasp, writhing against Aziraphale’s hand and cock and the added slickness as Aziraphale’s hand clenched spasmodically through his own orgasm then keep stroking him for a moment more using their combined come as lubricant.

Eventually, Aziraphale let go of Crowley’s hand, and tilted forward to rest his forehead against Crowley’s shoulder, trapping Crowley’s come-covered hand on his tits between their bodies, as both their breathing slowed back to normal. Crowley wrapped his free arm around Azriaphale’s shoulders, scratching gently at the back of his neck with nails that were shifting back to normal. Aziraphale put one hand on Crowley’s hip, went to do the same with the other, realised it was covered in come, and held it awkwardly out to the side so it didn’t touch anything.

“Oh good Lord,” Aziraphale said into Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley started to shake with laughter, a reaction to the adrenalin, the absurdity of the whole situation, and the release of the rather fantastic orgasm he’d just had. He felt Aziraphale start to laugh too, and he lazily gestured a little miracle to clean them both up then tilted to slide down on the sofa so he was lying on it, Aziraphale half on top of him. Aziraphale’s shoulder was pressing painfully on one breast, and with a slight regretful sigh Crowley gestured again and his chest melted back to its usual flatter shape, nipples small and pale brown, little scattering of hair in the middle.

Aziraphale made a small disappointed moue, but brought up one hand to absently pat at Crowley’s chest fondly.

“Well,” said Crowley, a little laugh still at the corners of his voice. “That was. Definitely. A _thing_.”

Aziraphale snorted, snuggling into Crowley with a happy little wiggle. “You have a gift for understatement, my dear.” He paused to pat the back of the sofa for a blanket, then on finding nothing sighed and brought his wings out, tucking one over where they lay on the sofa. Crowley delighted in the opportunity to gently run the fingers of his free hand, not currently wrapped around Aziraphale’s shoulders, over silky soft feathers. Aziraphale sighed happily.

Crowley felt a brief urge to emotional responsibility creep over him. He didn’t like it. “Should we, erm, talk about this?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment. “Yes. Tomorrow. We’ll have breakfast. For now, please keep stroking, it feels delightful.”

Crowley relaxed with a sigh of relief, and felt Aziraphale poke his side. He grinned at the ceiling, and allowed himself the previously unhoped for privilege of dropping a kiss on the angel’s forehead. “Yeah, all right. Breakfast. Muffins? Always nice with a cup of tea. Remind me, do you take milk in yours…?”

Aziraphale made a muffled squeak of indignation against Crowley’s shoulder and gave his side a light slap. “You are _awful_! So vulgar. It’s lucky for you I’m already terribly in love with you.”

Crowley stilled, not even breathing for a moment. Aziraphale felt this and lifted his head to meet Crowley’s eyes. “You did know that, didn’t you? I know that I haven’t always…kept up with you, but it was never the case that we weren’t going in the same direction.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to hold back the little hot prickle of tears he could feel, and leaned forward blindly to press his lips to Aziraphale’s in one of the soft, near-chaste kisses he’d dared to imagine. Aziraphale’s lips pressed back against his, and Crowley realised both of them were smiling into the kiss. He pulled back and let himself settle, really _settle_, cosy and safe into Aziraphale’s arms, under his warm wide wing.

“Yeah, angel,” he said, a little hoarsely. “I knew. But. It’s good to hear all the same.” He took a deep breath, tongue flicking out for a moment to smell and taste the air. Both of their scents, a little sweat, a little spunk, the milky sweetness. Delicious, and under it all the bone-deep _relief_ that so many years of pining and love and just _everything_ they were to each other had somehow been resolved with the _kinkiest_ sex he’d ever had. “Love you too.”


End file.
